


Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser MD

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Which Door? (Fluffy Fraser Fics) [68]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: The Frasers' lives are constantly changing. This time is no different.





	Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser MD

                                                           

It was rather strange when it all happened. She was perfectly fulfilled being who she already was. Oh, of course she made lofty resolutions each New Year to do better in some way or another. Every time she was short-tempered with the children she practiced breathing deeply and waiting a moment before letting any words come from her mouth. And there were times when she overindulged,  _just a bit_ , in dark chocolate and wine. Yes, she was human, but she felt  _complete_.

As Jamie’s wife she felt fulfillment, not just because she had the other piece of her, but because he made her better, more. Being a mother was like that too, but it was also different. There were moments where she was certain those tiny beings they’d brought into the world had a death wish for her and other times where she couldn’t even begin to say how much better her life was for having them in it. And being a sister, as Jenny had taught her, brought something she never knew she wanted. When you grew up an orphaned only child, you didn’t expect to have siblings and that, for her, was fine. But being embraced as a real sister, as part of their own family, that gave her such a sense of value and peace.

She was at work when it happened though, and the moment she had a break, she texted Jamie a quick “We need to talk when I get home, ok?” hoping that he’d understand it wasn’t an emergency, but she  _really did_  need him.

She’d always felt a sense of achievement, a glimmer of joy in the way she was able to use her skills to help others. And all of a sudden it changed.

She  _couldn’t_ stay in nursing. Not anymore.

When she got home, the children were already asleep in bed. He grasped her upper arms and kissed her, then pulled away and looked at her closely. “Did something happen? Are ye well?”

“I’m fine,” she shook her head, curls falling from the haphazard messy bun atop her head. “I just wanted to talk about something. You don’t need to worry.”

“Claire,” he chided, eyebrows raised. “Every time ye  _‘just want to talk about somethin_ ’ I do worry a bit.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled reassuringly and then leaned into him. He was warm, always warm like a furnace that never went out. He smelled of laundry detergent and baby shampoo, of the fresh bread that he’d baked with Faith and Bree, and something that was distinctly  _him_. “I didn’t want to concern you. I just realized something today and I needed to talk it out. To see if what is rolling around in my mind makes any sense at all.”

He gently cupped her face in the palms of his hands and looked at her, blue pools of his eyes seeing straight through her. “Go on. Take yer wee shower then come back to me, Sassenach. I’ll have a tea waiting for you.”

She turned inward as she turned the shower up as high as it would go, waiting for the lackluster water pressure to finally spray enough to permeate her curly mop. Deliberately, she attempted to turn off all the distractions and thoughts whirling in her mind and just wash it all away. After a few minutes of watching shampoo suds swirl around the drain, she knew the only thing that would help now was her husband.

She toweled off, wrapped her hair up in a towel and tugged on leggings and one of Jamie’s huge sweatshirts, then stuffed her feet into cozy socks and went back downstairs.

There he was, her everyday hero up to his elbows in soap suds from the dishes he was washing in their kitchen sink. There he was, unaware of the superhuman task she was about to discuss embarking upon. She wondered briefly if she had any right to ask it of him.

“Ready then?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at her before she even made any noise. “Yer tea is on the table.”

She smiled and sat down while he dried his hands.

He sat, palms upward on the tabletop and she released her steaming mug to grasp them across the wooden expanse.

“I don’t even really know how to say whatever it is,” she began falteringly. “See, today Arthur Macdowell was doing a surgery and asked if I’d help. It was wonderful, amazing really, what he accomplished with that procedure and what I was a part of by being there. After we were done, he mentioned that I was too good to be a nurse. And Jamie,” she paused. “It wasn’t said in a way that meant that nurses are less or that I’m better than the rest of them. There’s just something  _different_ about me.”

He sat, listening, absorbing. The pads of his thumbs lightly stroked her hands in a soothing motion as if they alone could encourage her to get her story out.

“You know how there are those moments in time where something crystallizes and you just  _know_?  Like,” she pulled one hand away and waved it in the air as if she might be able to find and grasp the word she was looking for. “When you know you need to step in and help somebody, even though you aren’t really involved? Or how you just need to speak up and say something instead of keeping silent?”

“Aye,” was all he whispered in return.

“It was just like that. I knew I had to make a change.”

And then his face lit up with a smile.

“Murtagh asked me just the other day ‘When do ye think the lass will realize tha’ she’s meant to be a surgeon?’” He laughed. “That’s what ye know, aye?”

“How do  _you_ know it though?” she breathed.

“Because ye’re my heart, Sorcha. How could I  _not_ know what incredible things ye were made for?”

A scuffling noise came from the doorway to their kitchen and a small, “Mama?” flowed from a little Fraser with brown curls all sleep-wild.

“Oh, love, what are you doing up?” she called back softly as Faith scuttled across the floor and onto her lap before she even knew what was happening.

“Ye’ll have a cup of tea with yer mam then, Faith? And then be off to bed,” Jamie kissed both of them on their soft curls, removing the towel from Claire’s head to do just that.

“Aye, Da. Please.” She curled into a space surprisingly small and clutched the front of the over-sized sweatshirt.

“Mama?” she whispered. “Is it true?”

“Is what true, darling?” Claire asked, gently smoothing hair away from their oldest child’s face and looking at her.

“That you’re going to be a surgeon,” returned Faith in a sleepy whisper.

It didn’t look like they’d need a second cup of tea.

Claire looked to her husband then. It seemed like an abrupt decision, one they hadn’t much discussed or researched, but the pride on his face when he nodded at her bolstered her in a way nothing else could.

“Yes, lovey. I’m going to.”

“That’s good,” she sighed and snuggled closer. “I always knew you would be one. Mama,” she paused then reached up a tiny hand to stroke her mother’s cheek. “You’ll be  _amazing_.”


End file.
